


Rosy-Fingered Dawn

by ToddTanniaandLeo



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToddTanniaandLeo/pseuds/ToddTanniaandLeo
Summary: Adam wakes from a nightmare.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Rosy-Fingered Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to insertsomethingwitty for betaing!!  
> I have never posted fanfic before but I took a creative writing class this spring and wrote fanfic that I liked so here we are hope y'all enjoy

Even with years behind him, there are still mornings where he is haunted by his father’s screams, the ringing in his bad ear, the squealing of tires, the rough dirt scraping his palms, running footsteps, the ringing, Ronan yelling, the ringing, fist on face, the ringing the ringing the  _ ringing _ \--

And he’s awake.

This isn’t the trailer park he grew up in. This isn’t his father's house. His father isn’t here. His mother isn’t here. The ceiling is the wrong color, the bed is too big, and it’s warm. He reminds himself this over and over to ease the lingering dread in his heart, ease the tension in his soul. 

He turns to look at Ronan, whose face is uncharacteristically smooth in sleep. No nightmares for him tonight. Just Adam.

Realizing his alarm will go off soon anyways, Adam slips silently out of bed. The sun is peeking above the horizon, and that’s when the farm wakes up. Watching the colors come alive is a study in art Adam never had the chance to appreciate before leaving his parents. Now that he works in the Barns, he hasn’t missed the sight in years.

Grabbing Ronan’s jacket, he faces the rising sun from the comfort of the porch steps. The night’s purple bruises fade to blush, the sun washes the clouds in blood, and Adam curses his father for ruining his mind to the point that he can only see his own damaged face reflected in the sky, even years later. 

This is how Ronan finds him, contemplating colors and trauma he can’t shake. Ronan just looks at him and no words are needed.

Adam answers the unasked question. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Dumbass,” he says, with no real malice. He ruffles his hair before sinking down next to him.

After some companionable silence, Ronan remarks, “Remember reading  _ The Odyssey _ with Whelk? Went on and on about rosy-fingered dawn. What a load of horseshit. You could make nature into anything and you choose fucking fingers?”

Ronan rambled about Whelk, Homer, and Dawn’s rosy-fingers and how much worse they were in the ungodly hours of the morning. He doesn’t mention Adam’s father, but he’s never far from their thoughts. And for all his complaints about being up early, here he is sitting next to Adam. Because he loves him.

Adam had dreamed of getting out of this town and outgrowing his childhood for years and years. He dreamed of skyscrapers and ceiling-to-floor office windows, legal libraries, having the corner office, being important and listened to and loved. It had taken him too long to realize the things his soul sought were fulfilled not by status nor the material, but by those around him. Fulfillment he never got from his parents or his classmates. Now he can’t imagine not waking up with Ronan to pick out the colors of the dawn.

Ronan can be angry enough for the two of them. It’s time for Adam to heal.


End file.
